DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, Disney, or anything Square Enix.

LANGUAGE WARNING: Vanitas cannot help himself, please forgive him.

TRIGGER WARNING: Cutting.

THANKS TO: My wonderful reviewers, readers, and my beta, Mystics Apprentice, who beta-read this chapter as fast as she could and sent it right back towards me at the speed of light. A shout-out to RO-VAN as well, for reasonably pestering me with messages and pushing me to finish this chapter.

LAST TIME on BÊTE NOIRE:

(Because it has been SO FREAKING LONG since I last updated, here is a brief summary of what has happened recently in the life of Vanitas Hunter. If you have an epic memory and do not need a recap, SALLY FORTH and skip the rest of this bolded A/N section.)

Alida quits her job and gives Vanitas Xion's counseling files because she is badass. Vanitas hugs her as thanks. He goes home and he reads Xion's suicide letter from a past failed attempt at killing herself.

Then he goes to her house and tries not to throw teacups at her father. Aeleus is not amused and tells Vanitas to stay away from his daughter. Pfft, like Vanitas is gonna listen to him. HE DOES WHAT HE WANTS, FOOL.

Ahem. The next day Vanitas stares at Xion all cute-like. Then he chases Riku (yep, AGAIN) down a hallway and finds him with Xion, DUN DUN DUN. He almost hits Riku but Sora comes to the rescue. Relena teases Vanitas about Lea. Then Sephiroth appears, fashionably late, and tells Vanitas he needs to stop by his office at Vanitas's old children's home the next day at four o'clock or he has to live there again. Now Vanitas is a little angry.

Ventus is the last straw, because he thinks it's a good idea to tell Vanitas Roxas asks Xion out. Terrible stuff happens. Vanitas beats up Ventus and Roxas tries to defend him. XION SPEAKS!

Terra and Vanitas have another brief argument before Vanitas leaves. Terra is better off without him, he thinks. (He is most likely WRONG.)

Vanitas sees Xion later with wildflowers which she puts on Pence's grave even though she doesn't know him. They exchange words. Vanitas doesn't know what he wants. He turns around and runs home, but Xion shows up soon after with a golden flower as a peace offering.

And NOW, WE CONTINUE!

Bête Noire

Chapter Sixteen: Pandora's Box

Xion was holding out the flower—it wasn't dead, I had to give it that much—as if it were a peace offering, a form of apology, or maybe even something like a show of good faith. What she said next only confirmed that nagging theory.

"Can… I… Can I come in?"

I accepted the peace offering, and stepped back to let her in. The last time she had been here, I'd threatened to tell her father about her scars. I'd asked her if she would sleep with me to keep me quiet. I thought I'd scared her away forever. But here she was again, knowing I could do anything to her, but coming in anyway, walking over to the attic steps and giving me a questioning look, as if asking me what was up there.

I twirled the wildflower in my fingertips, switching it between hands, thinking. Finally, I set it down on the kitchen countertop and grabbed at Xion's hand— might as well make the most of something that was about to end anyway.

"Let's go."

Together, we climbed the steps, our paces matching each other's: right, left, right, left. The floorboards creaked under our combined weight, and again I wondered about falling straight down to Hades' Palace. The prospect wasn't so desirable anymore, not with Xion's small hand in mine, not with the thought that if I fell, I'd be pulling her down with me.

As soon as we reached the attic, Xion slipped her from mine, leaving me cold and empty. She walked towards something in the corner of the small room. She didn't know, so why was she gravitating towards the one thing that I'd always wanted to get rid of but never could? And now she was lifting the cloth from over it, letting it fall to the dust-covered floor.

My old piano. For a second she just stared. Then she took a seat on the bench, tracing her fingers over the keys, and just when I thought she was going to start playing, she turned to look at me.

"Do you play?"

I shook my head. "Not anymore."

She didn't voice her next thought, but I could see it in her eyes: why not?

Shaking my head at her, I joined her side at the piano bench and stared at the keys.

Despite the years that had passed, despite the thick layer of dust that blanketed every other surface of the room, the keys were sleek, screaming to be played. They were dark and light, black and white, in pure coexistence— the only place where they didn't devour each other's souls.

"Play."

It was one word— one, simple, word, and yet she couldn't have said it two days ago. She was staring at me, her smile slight and hesitant, but she was tense, taut with unease. Every word she chose to say was probably carefully picked from amongst millions of other possible choices.

"You want me to play? How the hell do you even know if I still can?"

She shrugged at me and turned towards the piano keys, as if waiting for me to start. I couldn't help it; I laughed. I laughed, stood up, and walked away from the piano I hadn't touched ever since she died.

Xion didn't follow me to the doorway. Instead, I turned around and watched as she lifted her hands, unearthing them from inside too-long sleeves, and hit a key. The piano cried out as if in alarm, cried out in pain and the anguish of sitting here, forgotten, for too many years. The note reverberated through the room, ricocheting off the walls and invading my eardrums—a marching band that just couldn't shut up—and the next thing I knew I was laying on the ground with my hands over my ears.

Someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes, blinking against the dim light. I couldn't see the ceiling. Instead, I saw a worried Xion leaning over me, scrutinizing my face.

I managed to grin at her. "Hey sexy? You…having naughty thoughts?"

I expected her to blush, look mortified, but Xion just frowned. "Are you…okay?"

Trying to get past the fact that she had used—wasted—three words to ask if I was alright, I sat up, ignoring the throbbing in my head. "Yeah. Sure."

I stood up, and without knowing what I was doing, held out a hand to help her up from her kneeling position. And then I realized I had offered her something meaningful, something I hadn't offered anyone in so long, something I had promised myself I would never offer anyone ever again. I pulled it away quickly, and Xion's hand met empty air.

I took the steps four at a time, slamming my feet as I went. But the ground didn't open up underneath me and I dropped down into a chair at my kitchen table. Nothing was going like I fucking wanted it to.

Xion reached the foot of the stairs seconds after I did—had she run down the steps?—and I saw her expression soften at the sight of me. The strangest thing was that it wasn't her actions that were making me angry, but, rather, my inability to cope with them.

Xion took a seat beside me.

We were both probably thinking the same thing.

What now?

Then Xion said something weird.

"Do you have a marker?"

What the fuck? "A marker? What for?"

I was greeted by a mischievous—and admittedly charming—smile. Xion was acting very un-Xion-like. She shook her head.

"You don't want to tell me. Great. Well. I don't have one."

The next second, Xion was walking towards my door. Where was she going? I couldn't do anything else but follow. Then again, I could have decided not to. I could have done anything I wanted.

I guess I wanted to follow her.

It looked like she knew where she was going. She didn't say anything when I joined her, only smiled.

"You're looking strangely cheery."

Unexpectedly, Xion answered my observation, her shoulders rising in a subtle shrug. "I'm…just happy, I guess."

But the way she said it didn't convince me that she was happy. I stopped walking to look at her face. Her eyes didn't shine with happiness, only showed a faded misery of a thousand years.

"Liar."

I had caught her off-guard.

"You say you're happy," I went on, "but really I think you're just trying to convince yourself you are. You don't look happy to me. If you think you're happy right now, you're fucking kidding yourself, because you're miserable—It's written all over your face."

Her eyes were watering, but it needed to be said.

"You know what I think? I think you're just a little less freaking depressed than usual, and you think that means you're happy. You're smiling and humming like it's the best day of your life when it's just a little worse than every other day. You're disgusting."

Xion sniffed and stared at her hands. Great, she's gonna cry again.

But she didn't cry. She lifted her head and looked me straight in the eye. "How do you know?"

"I—"

"You're just like me."

It wasn't until later, when Xion started walking again (way faster this time), did I realize she had almost said my name. She'd stopped herself, and that's when I figured out that I wanted to hear my own name come from her lips. Maybe that's why I was trying to make her angry, but Xion was harder to break than I had initially guessed.

Before I got the chance to start up another argument, Xion suddenly turned left into an inconspicuous dollar store.

It was pretty amusing to see Xion practically scowling as she marched over to the counter. The man behind the counter was grinning at us almost evilly, but that wasn't even what made him look creepy as hell. The man wore an eye patch on the left side of his face. On the right, a dark scar traced along his jaw and up towards his second eye. His greying hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Heya, poppet," the guy said, looking at Xion. He seemed to know her. His eye slid over her towards me, and his smirk grew even wider. "And who might this whacko be, eh?"

"He's…a friend."

I tried not to look surprised that Xion considered me a friend. I mean, enemy or stalker I would understand, but friend?

The man scoffed. "As if. Who are you, kid?"

"Vanitas." I gritted my teeth. I didn't like how this guy was looking at me like a piece of meat. I also couldn't understand how he knew Xion, or why he wasn't surprised to see her talking. Had he heard her voice before?

The man rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter, winking at Xion (and now completely ignoring me, might I add). "What'll it be, little poppet?"

The blush of anger on Xion's cheeks was beginning to fade. "A marker, please, Braig."

Asshole. Why could she say his name but not mine?

"Gotcha."

Braig whirled, hair flying, and his fingers moved skillfully over the boxes on the shelves, implying years of experience (poor guy).

I eyed a couple of overturned shelves littered with broken pieces of glass. "What happened there?"

Braig answered without turning around. "Target practice." And then he turned around and grinned at me, white teeth flashing.

He placed a small box of permanent markers on the counter. Xion turned to me expectantly.

I turned out my pockets. "Who the hell do you think I am? I got nothing."

Braig narrowed his eyes at me. "Is that any way to talk to a lady?" He winked at Xion. "It's on me, poppet. They're yours."

Xion broke into a smile, and I couldn't breathe for a second. Then the moment was over and Xion was walking out the doors.

As I made to follow, Braig called out after me. "Treat 'er well or I'll break your nose, whacko!"

Somehow, that made me laugh. "Yeah, sure."

I heard a sarcastic "As if" as the doors closed behind me.

Xion had only taken a few steps towards the direction of my house when she stopped and pointed at a sidewalk bench.

"Can we…take a break?"

I shrugged. Everything felt…bizarre. Disconnected. I was about ready to agree with anything.

We sat there for a few minutes in complete silence. I took the time to think about nothing. Then Xion broke the quiet.

"Wanna play a game?"

Hell no. "Sure, why not?"

This delighted Xion extensively. She turned to face me, pulling up her legs to cross them.

"Five questions," she said. "We take turns. You go first."

"No way. You mean I can ask you anything?"

An uncertain nod from Xion.

I pumped a fist in the air. "Aw yeah! I've been waiting for this moment my whole life."

Xion tried to hide her smile. Inside, I was dancing my ass off. Pathetic, yes. But then again, I already knew how pathetic I was.

I racked my brain. There were too many questions to narrow down to five. What to ask, what to ask…

"You promise you'll answer? No matter what?"

Now Xion looked afraid. But she nodded anyway. I fought the urge to punch the air again.

"Are you a virgin?"

No matter what anyone thinks, that is one important question. I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.

Xion stared at the wooden planks of the bench, upset.

"Sensitive issue?" I joked. Then again, a virgin girl wasn't as big of a deal. Guys just had bigger reps to protect. There was obviously something messed up in that mindset, but it wasn't like—

"No."

"Well, that's okay. Sooner or later you'll… What?"

Her cheeks reddened. "I'm not."

"Oh."

"My turn," Xion rushed. "When did your mom die?"

Really. She could have asked me any question in the world, and this was what she chose to ask? Why did it even matter?

"Well," I said, "I was about seven when it happened. I've been alone ever since."

Xion nodded seriously. "I bet you miss her."

It didn't sound like a question, so I didn't answer. Instead, I raised my eyebrows. "My turn?"

"Yes."

Speaking of my mother… "What's up with the cemetery? Why would you lay flowers on graves of people you don't know?"

I was thinking of earlier that day, of the name Pence Victus, and how it meant next to nothing to Xion.

Tilting her head, Xion didn't answer for a small moment. Then she bit her lip. "That's…hard to explain. I just don't want…anyone to be forgotten. And I want people to know they're not alone."

I scoffed. "What, dead people? I don't think they can care."

"I mean the people who live," Xion said."The people who have lost. The people who mourn."

"That's stupid."

Xion crossed her arms, flushing with anger. "My turn then. Why do you visit Lea…so often…even though he probably doesn't even know you're there?"

"I…" She got me. "I guess I just want to…be there. So he's not alone. So Terra…"

"See?" Xion smiled gently. "You understand. That's what I mean."

"All right, all right, I get it." But surprisingly, I was smiling too. "My turn again."

I searched for another question. Xion sighed, folding her hands into her lap, and for a second her sleeves moved enough for me to see her scars again. The question got to my lips before I realized what I was asking.

"Why do you cut?"

She had expected this question. Straightening, Xion pulled a new marker from the pack she had just bought from Braig. She stowed the rest of them into her pocket and then raised her arms, uncapped marker in one hand and the other lifted towards one of mine.

"Give me your hand."

I obeyed, curious.

"Close your eyes."

Doing as I was told, I closed my eyes, washing myself with darkness, blocking out the sun. I felt Xion's small cold hand on my arm.

"Can you see them?"

Everything felt surreal. And almost kind of silly. "See what?"

"My…scars. Can you see them?"

"No, obviously not."

Something thin and cold touched my skin; I could feel Xion tracing lines across my arm. What was she doing, drawing fake scars?

"Open your eyes."

I looked down at my now bare arm (Xion had pushed back my sleeve) at the three parallel red lines that almost looked like claw marks.

Xion revealed her own lacerations, slowly pulling back her sleeves, head bent forward in intense concentration.

She looked up. "Can you see them now?"

"Xion…" Something inside me was writhing in agony.

"Shh." Xion inched forward, very carefully placing her arms on my crossed legs. "Look at them. They're already starting to fade. But you know what? Some of them will never go away. Yours…" Her eyes went to the false scars she had just drawn. "Yours will be gone by tomorrow."

She exhaled slowly, as if saying so many words in one breath had exhausted her.

In that moment I had no idea what to say. Xion hung her head, looking so much like an ashamed kitten that I almost embraced her. But something was holding me back. I looked down at the methodical tears on her skin— broken, pale skin on the arms of a prisoner. These scars were her shackles; they were tying her down just as my own kept me at bay. Mine were just a little less physical (mostly; ones I had gotten as a child had long since faded). And that was exactly what Xion was trying to say: that she displayed her chains in the hopes that someone would see them…and set her free.

Before she could take them away from me, I wrapped my hands around her wrists, stroking the cuts with my fingers. I had something to say.

"But you know, there's still something I don't understand."

Xion didn't respond.

"To me," I went on, "it looks like you're trying to make a point… That you want to say something. But why don't you just open your mouth?"

I pulled her hands closer to myself, revealing more of her arms. When Xion didn't say anything, when she didn't pull herself away, I let myself trace her scars again, running my thumb over the dark, rough lines. The first time I had seen them, in the corner of my deserted kitchen, the moment had been too brief. I hadn't realized that there was something odd about them— something strange: at every fourth scar a diagonal one ran through them. With a rare pang of sadness I realized what they actually were.

Tally marks.

My breath caught in my throat. "Why…" I swallowed. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

Finally, Xion pulled her hands away, the scars disappearing into the folds of her sleeves.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. The blue sapphires were a shade darker than usual. "Is that your next question?" Her tone was unnervingly steady.

"I… No, but…"

"My turn." I was too shocked by her reaction, by her expression, by her demeanor, to say anything, so she kept going. "Don't you hurt yourself too?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you attack Ven today? You hurt him, but he's not the only one who got hurt. Why do you…fight? Do you like it?"

I frowned. "Well, I don't particularly enjoy it. I mean, I guess it even scares the hell out of me sometimes, but…"

I didn't know how to continue. It seemed I didn't know the answer myself. And thinking about it this way, maybe Xion didn't know why she did it either.

"Well?"

"Maybe I'm just"—and then I understood—"trying to get someone to listen."

Xion was smiling sadly at me. She looked down at the tips of her fingers poking out of her sleeves. "But…the thing is…I didn't…"

"Yeah? Didn't what?"

"Never mind."

We lapsed into silence. We both knew it was my turn, but I couldn't seem to come up with anything good. I thought back to when I'd first met her, everything that I'd wanted to know. I thought of her notebook, and the name "Zexion" came to mind. But I brushed it away. The past was past. It—he—didn't matter anymore. He was long gone who knew where, and this was me sitting here centimeters from Xion, not him.

"Why do you write poetry?"

The poetry part was a guess— from all I'd seen, Xion had an admiration for poetry, and the short glimpses of writing I'd seen in her notebook implied stanzas.

Xion shrugged, her expression solemn. "It's…an escape. I get to…be who I want to be. I have fun writing poetry." Her voice was lighter.

"Is it all just depressing shit?" I joked. And then Xion gave me a skeptical look, so I shook my head quickly. "That's not one of my questions."

Xion needn't have answered, but she did anyway. "It's not all depressing."

"What do you write about?" I took a second to reconsider. "That's not a question either."

Red color flooded into her cheeks at an alarming rate. "I don't…want to tell you."

I wasn't hurt. In fact, her refusal was what I had been hoping for. "Good. You don't have to."

Finally, ever since I had brought up her scars, Xion brought her eyes to meet mine. For an infinite moment she didn't look away. I'd stared at her this openly only once before, when I had found her crying by the side of the road. She'd looked so broken then, so sad and battered and alone, so intensely empty. This time was vastly different. Her gaze was gentle, eyes tearless and dry. And there was something there behind her pupils, something that had replaced the barrenness. A word rose to the front of my mind, a vague memory of a story begging to be acknowledged, but then Xion looked away and eternity came to an end.

Then she spoke, like my expression had made her remember something. "Vanitas… Do you think love exists?"

Weird question. I searched for an answer, something vague to ease her mind.

"Maybe it does." And then I had more to say, more thoughts rushing forward to be acknowledged. "But then again, maybe it's just bullshit. People think they love each other infinitely through time and space, but inevitably fall away from each other. Is that really love then? But you know, recently, I think I'm starting to see that it does exist. Maybe…" I gazed at her; I wasn't going to let myself look away.

Xion flushed, her eyes suddenly downcast.

"Xion. Look at me."

She peeked at me from under her eyelashes. This was my last question. I wasn't gonna waste it. She had to answer. This is my chance. Finally, I would know the truth.

"Do you like Roxas?"

If she liked him, then there was nothing I could do. I told myself I would give up. I told myself I'd stop trying to be this person I wasn't. But the fact was, I couldn't imagine letting her go.

Xion's eyes were wide. "I…"

That word floated up again, just on the tip of my tongue, but it was gone before I could grab ahold of it.

"Well? It's an easy question. Yes or no?"

Xion took a deep breath. Then she shook her head. But before I could do anything with this new information, she got to her feet, quickly stowing away her markers.

"We should go home."

I was two steps behind her as she hurried ahead. It was as if she was afraid of confronting me, of seeing my reaction to what she had said.

Only when we were halfway to my house did it dawn on me: Just a little while ago I'd refused to help Xion to her feet, afraid I'd offered too much. But I had ended up giving much more than just a hand. I'd opened up and had told her everything she had asked of me, anything she had wanted to know. She had an arsenal now of things she hadn't known about me before. But there was no way this couldn't end badly, right? I supposed that was the point of it all. Maybe I was just tired, and didn't care if there was no chance this could end well. Or maybe that Q and A had sparked something in me.

I allowed my thoughts to settle into a pathetic jumble as we approached my sorry excuse of a house. I opened the door, moving almost robotically, not knowing what to say, or if I should say anything at all.

Xion spoke first. Hands behind her back, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uneasy, restless. She looked absolutely wonderful, face shining with a radiant brightness that may or not have been because of me.

"I have…one more question left."

"Oh." I hadn't kept count.

"You…don't have to answer just yet."

Is it that hard of a question? "Shoot."

"Will you…" She smiled a bit anxiously. "Will you play the piano for me one day?"

She was right. I couldn't answer that question.

"Thank you," she said, bowing slightly.

"But… I didn't say yes."

"No." Her raven hair sashayed when she shook her head. "For everything else. For…today."

I didn't necessarily think the entirety of the day had been one of my best ones. She seemed to realize this too, because she bit her lip, and then went on, "You'll…apologize to Ven, won't you?" And when she looked at me—like kids do to someone they admire, their own personal hero—I couldn't say no.

I nodded. "I will."

That was enough for her. She nodded one last time, and I stood in my wretched doorway a long time after she had disappeared from view.

That word. I'd seen it in her eyes again at that very last plea.

The story came slowly. I hadn't been paying attention. Mr. H had forced me to write an essay.

Pandora. The first woman on Earth, according to the Greeks. Almighty asshole Zeus had ordered Hephaestus, the god of dexterity, to create her— and he did. But Pandora had one major flaw: curiosity.

Like always, it wasn't long before something stirred amongst the gods. When this dude named Prometheus (that idiot) stole fire from heaven, Zeus got angry as shit and handed Pandora over (like she was some thing) to Prometheus's unsuspecting father. But Pandora didn't go alone. People call it Pandora's box, but really it was a jar that she was specifically told not to open. Of course, Pandora didn't really have much of a choice, and she opened it to find out what was inside.

That was where things got interesting. She ended up releasing everything malicious, everything evil, all human sins, into the world. Freaking out, she tried to close it, but everything in the jar had escaped—except for a single spirit.

That word.

The secret in Xion's eyes when she looked at me.

The spark inside my chest, the rebirth of a long-gone fire—

Hope.

Don't even. I know. I know it has almost been a year. And I am so, so sorry. A while back I just sort of hit a rough patch in life, and for the longest time I couldn't continue writing this without making Xion cry, or Vanitas cry, or them both cry because I was feeling pretty shitty myself. But I've finally got everything together now, and though things may still not be the best at the moment, I finally got around to finishing this chapter without anyone crying too much.

Thank you all so much for being patient and loving and supportive no matter how long I take. This was probably the longest gap, and at this point I don't even know if anyone wants to read this anymore, but here it is anyway because I have VanShion needs to fulfill.

Review responses (man, I missed doing these):

pandamustache: "Aww what? A cliffhanger?" (Chapter 14)

Be glad I don't write cliffhangers like Rick Riordan or Veronica Roth, man. This shizzle is nothing compared to some spawns of Satan out there. Anyway, sorry for making you wait so long. Hopefully you amused yourself with chapter 15!

"Why did Xion choose just now to start talking again anyway?"

Not the easiest question to answer, because there's so much involved. You can probably guess some things by yourself (at least, I hope so) but I mean at that point it was more of an in-the-moment thing. The fact that she continues speaking is a whole other issue altogether, and there will be more on that later. Some things were mentioned here, too.

OmegaStarShooter14: "You did great on Vani's internal conflicts. Kudos!"

Thank you so much! I worry about overdoing his thought process sometimes. In this AU he's turned into this person who is constantly questioning everything, so I'm glad it works well and doesn't drag on or anything. And the KH3 bonanza was the best. I haven't felt so close to the KH fandom for a long time.

Emo Unfaltering: "…it belongs on a shelf of a bookstore."

Must you say such nice things!? *blushes furiously* Honestly though, I've still got a long way to go if I want to make it that far. But I do know I am definitely on my way ;) Thank you for your awesome support! You don't know how much everything means to me.

The Dismotivator: "But whenever I read a story and the characters go to a graveyard and don't act like a bunch of sissies, it makes me warm inside."

I feel like I have a thing for graveyards or something. O_O Whatever the case, I enjoy characters being serious or just plain human around graves. I feel like every time I pass a graveyard I just unconsciously get all quiet and morose, and sometimes sad and angry at the same time, and I kind of wanted the same sort of feeling to waft from Vanitas.

"I pity the lost friendships between these two. Terra's a nice guy to have on your side."

Definitely. Honestly, even in canon-verse, if Vanitas got the chance to repent for everything he did and be different, he and Terra could become best buds. Like, bros for life.

"And how does one get yanked by the elbow? O_o"

Oh c'mon, have you never seen a parent tugging a young creaming, limbs-flailing child along by the elbow because they can't really hold onto anything else? That's kind of what I imagined when I wrote that, anyway.

"I'm curious about his surname, too. :3"

Victus. Latin for: nourishment. Food. Yep, Pence's last name is food. But wait, there's more! Victus can also mean living, or to be alive. The irony! (Because he's dead.) And yeah, I mean, I sort of wanted a known character to be dead so it wasn't just a random name. Poor Pence came to mind. But this fact will be slightly significant later.

"I forgot if there was something in the attic that was important, but if Vanitas was just going there to escape going to the window, then I guess it's not really for a thing. But the attic isn't important, because soon after he reaches the attic, he gets a visit from Casper - I mean, Xion, and she has a nice golden wildflower. How sweet. Maybe she picked it out because it was the color of his eyes? X3 (That actually sounds legit. O_o)"

Actually, that is totally what I was going for. The yellow eyes thing. And you bring a very good point about the attic, and you have made me very proud for making you think it might be important because EEYYY DIS CHAPTER! So now you know why the attic actually is important. Yay me.

"I'll take this opportunity to apologize for how late this review seems to be, and how unnecessarily long the last one was."

NEVER apologize for a review. I ADORE both long and short reviews. Long reviews make me gush and want to curl into a ball and roll around on my bed. Short and sweet reviews make me want to squeal and dance around. My point? Don't apologize. I love you. Late reviews trump no reviews at all, you know.

: "you are fantastic at Vanitas's point of view, so tragic/mysterious."

Why thank you! It's really tricky writing in first person (though I love doing it, hehe) because it's so easy to get really-out-of-character or basic with language. So this is one of the best compliments I can get!

ken08002: "This is the type of story that still keeps me devoted to fanfiction."

That's it. I'm gonna start crying now because you guys are too wonderful to be real. *Wipes tears.* Thank you for being so wonderful, y'all!

Well, that's it for the review responses this time. I've hit 70 reviews! LIKE. SERIOUSLY. So just for fun, let's have a character Q-and-A, shall we? In your next review, post a question to one of the characters from the story and they'll answer at the end of the next chapter! Idea credited to Cassandra Clare, author of the Mortal Instruments and Infernal Devices series. Some things you should know: Try asking only one question. There are only so many questions that can be answered, and if you list too many you may not be able to hear one you desperately wanted an answer to. Also, nothing will be spoiled in questions, so keep in mind what kind of things you want to ask. I'll do this every now and then, and maybe give extra scenes and stuff like that if I ever write anything I can't post normally.

Speaking of other things, has anyone here ever consider Vanitas x Ventus as a pairing? Platonically? Romantically? Not in this story of course, but generally? Opinions would be great. I have a story that has around 10 chapters already (this is what I started writing in my depressed state, be warned) and I want to know how interested you guys or people you'd know would be if I ended up posting it.

Thanks again for the patience and support and wonderful comments, guys! I love you all, and all critique and criticism for this chapter will be appreciated. The next update? I can't promise anything, but the wait definitely won't be 9 months -_-

As for the next chapter, I'm really excited about it. Things are about to take a really sharp turn. Someone makes an unexpected appearance, and there's a party, and a kiss.

Until then, my lovelies! It's great to be back.

~DestinyCrusader